


Take it day by day

by CallowAlex



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn, Falsettos - Lapine/Finn (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Canon Gay Relationship, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, F/M, Gay Male Character, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-04-08 01:37:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14094186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallowAlex/pseuds/CallowAlex
Summary: Modern college setting of Falsettos!I focus almost wholly on Marvin and Whizzer, but of course I talk about other charactersWhizzer plays baseball and is a cheerleaderMarvin is an idiotic nerdREFRENCED abusive relationship, it isn't any one that is actually in the storySlow burn





	1. A world class traveler

“I have to move?”

The stressed man ran his fingers through his thick gelled hair. The RA barely shrugged, not looking up from the computer, jamming her fingers on the up and down arrows as he overheard game noises playing from her broken earbuds. “Sorry.”

He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes and looked down at the sheet. He was moving from the dorm on South campus to one on the East. It was the middle of the second semester, for God’s sake. He stormed out of the office, and before slamming the door, the RA gave a condescending smile and triumphantly said “Mr. Brown, please calm down.”

He slammed the door louder then he meant to.

 

-

 

Whizzer Brown had been enjoying his college career so far. He  _had_ lived somewhere on East campus with the other freshman, but he was more popular among the upperclassmen. He seemed to know everyone who was anyone, as he was in every other club but chess and was a cheerleader for the football team. His height and strength gave him an advantage there.

Despite the occasional comment, Whizzer loved being a cheerleader. He was always a fan of production and theatrics, so jumping and flipping in short shorts and a tight tank top was his natural habitat. He had a flash of a smile that could egg on the supporters until their voices died.

However, that wasn’t the sport he was that into. He was doing his Law degree wholly on a baseball scholarship he acquired. He had been scouted by the Yankees for a year or so, so he just needed to keep up his almost perfect pitch and perfect press. He rarely caused any uproar, beside the occasional tabloid headline, but a pearl smile and golden laugh gets you out of enough of drama if it’s utilized right.

But now he was hauling two boxes and a suitcase across campus to move to live with a new roommate with new questions and new comments. He had done such a good job of covering all of this up, and if this twat caused him any issues with the Yankees or the cheerleaders or with the Law department for ‘lying’, he’d actually lose it. He straightened his back, opening the elevator door to his new floor.

The doors were darker in this dorm, and the doors were much less decorated then where he used to live. He wondered why he had gotten kicked out. His roommate seemed like a decent guy, and they both kept their distance. He pinched in between his eyes, cracking his neck, rolling it from one side to the other and back again. He hissed in air, trying his best to see how this was good.

He looked at the number he scrawled on the back of hand in black pen. The door he looked at was completely empty and spotless, and he could see him and his white-toothed scowl on the brass knob. He stood there for a moment, hoping his eyes would open to see his old room and his old roommate and his old posters and the smell of the early spring mulch outside his always open window. His brown eyes, however, were still looking into the dark door of the same color. He wanted to shout and scream as he pulled his keychain out of his pocket. He wanted to cry as he looked at his new dulling key with teeth that were jagged in an unfamiliar way. He rolled his index finger over the teeth before he put it in the lock, trying his best to not put his head in his hands and punch something. Right as he turned the knob, the door pushed and open from the other side and-

He fell on his ass, looking up at the man who looked somewhat shocked but not at all bothered that he had just knocked his new roommate to the ground. In fact, he looked more concerned that he had been inconvenienced by him. Surprisingly, it was a man Whizzer failed to recognize. He scowled. He tried to walk away without saying anything, but Whizzer jumped to his feet, accidentally getting a bit too close for comfort with who he had to assume was his new roommate. He noticed immediately that he was taller than this man, which made him feel like he had some upper hand in all of this. “Excuse me!”

The man gave a half smile, like the response he received for knocking someone to the ground was unwarranted. “You’re excused,” And with that, he attempted to walk away again.

Whizzer jammed his index finger into the center of the man’s chest, trying his best to seem manly or assertive or something. He was appalled at the man’s manners, and he couldn’t believe that he had done this and didn’t care. They should have an attitude test for Ivy League schools along with everything else. “I think you owe me an apology.”

The man, with unexpected strength for someone who was almost half a foot shorter than him, pushed him to the side. “I don’t.”

Whizzer’s jaw went slack, staring at the man walking down the hallway. He stood there, expecting one of them to say something. But the man opened the elevator door without looking back once.

-

Whizzer was unpacking his stuff, listening to jazz and classical music loudly. He hadn’t thought he needed his speakers, but he was glad he bought the portable one that was blasting saxophone from across the room; it helped get himself out of his own head. He was carefully putting jackets he owned on coat hangers when the door opened.

He looked up, half expecting it to be his old roommate, but he was quickly snapped back to reality when he saw the face of the man in the hallway. He seemed a bit embarrassed for whatever reason, like he had something to say. Whizzer saw his mouth move around words, but the music was too loud to hear him. He grabbed his remote, shutting off the music.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Whizzer expected some sort of apology or explanation.

“I was just going to tell you to turn off your music.”

Again, Whizzer’s jaw dropped. He didn’t even know this man’s name, but he was ordering him around, not acknowledging everything that happened earlier. The man wore an ugly wife beater and stained jeans, and he had already settled at his desk, raking his hands through his hair and studying whatever it was he was looking at. “Are you going to introduce yourself to me? I don’t even know who you are”

“I’m Marvin.” The man stated it as if the fact was obvious, and he seemed satisfied with the level of introduction he had given, as he immediately looked back to his paper, clicking a red pen and marking up some reading.

“Where were you heading in such a rush earlier?” As the words fell from his lips, he felt like a jealous wife interrogating her husband that she assumed was having an affair. He crossed his arms defensively.

The man finally looked up at him, making full eye contact. His green-grey eyes held some strong emotion Whizzer was unable to identify. His jaw was clenched, showing the sharp lines of his cheek and jaw bones, his teeth coming down on his bottom lip and dragging it in to his mouth. The contours of his forehead were accentuated as he grinded his teeth. He looked older than he was with the 5 O’clock shadow that spilled down his jaw and his neck. Whizzer watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed something he was going to say. The 3 second pause seemed to spill into an eternity as the tense eye contact was held. Then, just as suddenly as it began, the other man’s eyes fell back to his papers, and it felt like storm clouds dissipated. “I was studying with my friend.”

Whizzer realized he hadn’t been breathing, so he took a sharp inhale and let it out as a huffy sigh. His head felt heavy, and he realized he was still standing in the middle of the room, looking at his roommate, Marvin, like a haunted porcelain doll. He shook his head before walking to his freshly made bed.

Over an hour later, the room was dark and silent. It felt as if neither had breathed since they had that bizarre interaction. Marvin was breathing steadily, and Whizzer assumed he was asleep. He was still angry, partially that the other man didn't seem to recognize him, partly cause he didn't seem to care even the slightest about him, so in a soft voice he said, “Oh, by the way, I’m Whizzer Brown.”

After a beat of silence, in a full but not loud voice, the other man said, “Please shut up, _Whizzer Brown_.”

He threw the blankets over his head.

 


	2. Pretty boys are in demand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning? They talk about Whizzer's ass?

Marvin woke calmly, but he felt more tired than when he had gone to bed in the first place. After a moment of allowing him to stay in the comfort of his sheets, he opened his eyes to see his new roommate bent over, in just his boxers, rooting through his dresser. He was thin and toned, maybe even a bit tanned. He pulled out a pale, silky grey button up and black slacks. Marvin felt like he should announce that he was awake, but something had entirely taken over him. He watched the man slide on his shirt and pants, before completing the ensemble with a maroon belt and tie of the same color. As he was tying his tie, Marvin pretended to wake up, yawning.

The other man turned his head to see him. He was in the process of tightening the tie around his neck. He looked good. “Morning, Marv.”

He was not interested in this man being with him for any longer. He had hoped transferring out of his old room would mean that he’d be alone. He was wrong. “It’s Marvin,” He said flatly.

Suddenly, the man, Whizzer, laughed. It sounded so good, like he was a radio host or someone on the other end of a hotline you’d call at midnight. “Look who’s talking! Morning, sleepyhead”

Marvin sighed, stepping out of the blankets. He wore baggy sweats and chose to omit a shirt. He noticed Whizzer look him up and down. He frowned. Even though he knew it was hypocritical of him, he didn’t like the other man looking at him like that. The man smirked at him, as if he was waiting for Marvin to say something. “What’re you looking at?”

Again, the man let out a laugh, this one louder and more full of humor than the earlier laugh, like Marvin had told him the best joke ever.

Defensively, Marvin shot back. “What’re you laughing at?”

Whizzer clasped his hand on Marvin’s shoulder, sighing deeply. “You need to get better at pretending to be asleep.”

With that, Whizzer moved out of the room with a smirk on his face. Now it was Marvin’s turn to sulk under his covers.

-

 

Marvin made it his mission to be home as infrequently as possible. He had only seen his roommate in passing once or twice that week, but as the weekend seeped closer, he knew he’d have to stop hiding. It was a Thursday night, and he was spending it at his friend Cordelia’s apartment.

She came from a good family, so she lived a block away from the school with her roommate turned girlfriend, Charlotte. She studied medicine, where Cordelia was getting a degree in the culinary arts. They had been his friends since the first day of his freshman year.

He was lying face first on their couch, with Cordelia running her fingers through his greasy hair. He hadn’t really told them why he was hiding at their place, so he was going through a bit of an interrogation.

“Is this about switching rooms? It’s really not a big deal. I know in north campus you liked the view, but you hated your roommate and anyway, you have a bigger room now. What on earth could’ve gone so wrong in one day? Oh my God, are there rats? I wouldn’t go back either if my room was full of rats. One time I saw I spider in the shower and I nearly lost it. I was hollering for Charlotte to go kill it. I honestly thought that I could’ve died right there, you know? I mean it was like the size of-”

Marvin groaned, stopping Cordelia so that he wouldn’t have to hear this story for the hundredth time. “It’s not spiders or rats, Delia. It’s who I’m rooming with.”

The blonde let out a thoughtful hum, letting the gears in her brain turn. He knew what was about to happen, he knew her too well. He waited as the questions rolled in.

“How old is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s his major?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is he an exchange?”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s his name?”

“Whizzer.”

At this, Cordelia hit the back of his head with her palm. “You mean to tell me you are sharing a room with Whizzer Brown and you didn’t think to tell me?” He squealed, before whapping the back of his head again.

“Are you friends?”

Cordelia laughed, obviously stunned. “Are you an idiot? Don’t answer that. Whizzer is being scouted by the fucking Yankees! He is also a lovely cheerleader for the football team, and he is literally amazing. Here!”

Cordelia got up, and returned with a copy of the New Yorker with his name and face plastered all over it. “Marv, he’s famous!”

Marvin peeled his head out of the sofa cushion, halfheartedly looking at the paper she shoved at his nose. “Then how the hell have I never heard of him?”

Again, Cordelia laughed so loud she almost screeched. Marvin didn’t see what was funny. “Marvin, you wouldn’t know famous if it fucked you.” Marvin thought for a moment the implications of what she had said, and buried his face in the sofa again. He mumbled something that sounded like ‘shut up’.

“But seriously Marv, what did he do that’s got you so bad out of shape? He doesn’t seem like a half bad guy. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. New York loves him! So, what happened?” Cordelia seemed genuinely concerned.

“I don’t know, Delia! I just feel weird about everything. Maybe it’s everything with Trina that’s got me so bad out of shape but it just feels weird to be around him. Like he’s seeing through me. I feel like he’s reading my mind, Delia! I’ve never met a man quite so, well, so, odd!” Marvin sat back up, running his fingers through his brown waves before rubbing his eyes. “Everything with him is just so weird!”

Cordelia frowned, looking at her friend. “Sometimes it’s weird. Sometimes it’s awkward. But I don’t think running away from it will help. You should go home, even if you don’t want to. The longer you put it off, the weirder and more awkward it’ll get. Here, I’ll drive you home.”

Marvin sighed, looking at the clock that read 11:49. “I don’t want to keep you up.”

“You live close, it’s not a big deal.” Cordelia helped Marvin up and drove him home.

-

 

It was a little past midnight when he got home. It wasn’t obscenely late, but he knew it was rude to bust the door open at this time of the morning. He quietly turned the lock and opened the door.

Whizzer was in the center of the room, stretching, and jumped up when Marvin walked in. He seemed like a kid who had been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. “Marvin.”

Marvin frowned, not sure what to say. Should he acknowledge how weird Whizzer was being? Should he just sit down and pretend nothing had happened? Should he explain why he showed up 15 past midnight after avoiding the dorm since Monday? Luckily, Whizzer made the choice for him.

“Why’re you suddenly back?” His voice sounded like someone forcing the feeling out of their voice. He didn’t really know what emotion he was covering, though.

Marvin furrowed his brow, feeling unsettled by how bizarre the whole thing was. “I live here too.” He didn’t mean to sound so angry.

“Then why’d you storm off Monday?” Whizzer had a crooked smile. He hadn’t known the man long, but he knew that this was the face he made when he was about to say something he thought would take Marvin down a peg. His chest was bare, his legs covered by exercise shorts. He must’ve been practicing.

“I didn’t. I was at a friend’s. Cordelia.” Marvin was trying to keep the bite out of his voice.

Whizzer laughed again, pinching the bridge of his nose like he had a headache. He was obviously bothered. “Whatever. Next time tell me when you are going to come home late, okay?”

Marvin furrowed his brow but nodded. The man sat back down on the floor and continued to stretch. Marvin fell asleep.

 


	3. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin finds out

When Whizzer woke up, Marvin was gone. He knew he was still avoiding him, and for a reason that he was unable to describe, this upset Whizzer. The man had been so rude to him, yet he was appalled that Whizzer dare shoot back. What an immature kid. He needs to learn to take a damn joke for once.

Whizzer had no classes today, so he worked on essays and practicing and studying and practicing and worrying and practicing. Baseball was so draining, but he loved it. Cheerleading was easy, but practices were hell. His arms and legs and his stomach and his head burned. He had expected that Marvin wouldn’t be home, but he wasn’t surprised to see him bent over his desk, working at some papers.

Marvin didn’t seem to notice him walk in. He looked at the back of his head for a moment, before deciding that it was just better to get out of his clothes. Marvin looked far too preoccupied to even turn around.

Whizzer peeled off his jersey and pants, throwing them in a pile that was his dirty clothes. He took off his briefs, but he quickly replaced them. However, he forgot to discreetly grab his packer, and as he was about to put it in the pouch in the front of his pants, Marvin turned around. “Hey, is that-“

They both froze as their eyes met. Whizzer held his packer in one hand, the front of his boxer briefs flat. Whizzer’s normal confidence sunk, looking at Marvin with eyes that begged for mercy. It took a moment for Marvin to put everything together. After an infinite second, Marvin swiveled back around. “Sorry.”

Whizzer shoved the packer in his pants, his face red and contorted with shame and embarrassment. How could he be so foolish? He should’ve thought more about all of this. He had royally fucked up and he knew it. He slid on sweats but left his shirt off. The fleshy pink scars around his nipples were basically gone, you’d have to look for them to see them. Now Marvin had a reason to notice. He wondered if he should put back on a shirt.

“Hey, um,” Marvin mumbled from his desk, still looking away. “Is it okay if…” His voice trailed off into nothing.

“Yeah. I’m dressed.” Whizzer looked at the ground, seeing Marvin’s chair turn to face him. “Listen, if anyone knows about this, I’m dead. I can’t let this get out because I’ve been lying and bribing people to lie for me. The Yankees will drop their deal with me. I’ll lose my law school scholarship-“

Whizzer felt a hand on his shoulder, and he let out a hissed sigh. He finally had the courage to look up at Marvin. His eyes seemed bluer and paler today. They also seemed to be more compassionate. “I won’t, but…”

Again, his voice fizzled out in the air. Whizzer could feel Marvin examining his chest and his face and his hips. He knew Marvin would have ten thousand questions. He didn’t want to hear them. “I transitioned, and subsequently disowned, when I was 5. I got my name changed when I was adopted at 8. They put me on hormone blockers at 10 and testosterone at 13. I got top surgery when I was 17 and my gender marker changed when I turned 18.”

Marvin actually let out a laugh, Whizzer didn’t see what was funny. “That’s what that was.”

Whizzer crossed his arms defensively. “What are you talking about?”

Marvin had a tired smile on his face. “Oh, well I saw that,” he lazily gestured to Whizzers crotch, “on the ground one time and I was wondering what you get up to when I’m not here.”

Whizzer couldn’t help it, he laughed. Out of all the things that man could have said, that was the best one. But as he laughed, he felt tears well in the corners of his eyes. He dropped to the ground, feeling like he just might scream or cry or kick or something.

“God you’re so dramatic,” Marvin huffed, looking down at the man on his knees in front of him.

Whizzer blinked, looking at Marvin in disbelief. “You avoided me for a week because I caught you staring at my ass!”

Marvin turned magenta. “Hey, listen here, you’ve got it all wrong. I wasn’t looking- well I didn’t mean to- I mean, fuck,” He sat down on the ground, looking defeated as he could look. “That’s not what happened, Whizzer.”

Whizzer smirked. This man would go to the ends of the earth to say he wasn’t gay, so Whizzer thought he might as well fuck with him. Maybe he’d forget about the thing with him if he made it about Marvin’s little secret. “Oh,” Whizzer tried his best to seem dejected.

Marvin was intrigued by the change of tone. “What’s wrong?” He took the bait.

Whizzer scooted closer, biting his lip and looking bashful always works on ‘straight’ guys like Marvin. “I just thought maybe we could do something?”

Marvin had that look flash through his eyes as he looked into Whizzer’s eyes. He could practically hear what Marvin was thinking about doing to him through that look. Even though he was just fucking with him, that look made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His voice got low, “Oh?”

Whizzer placed his hand on Marvin’s thigh, pulling him close. “Fuck, Marv.” He barely whispered these words to Marvin before he began kissing him. He felt his wrists get pinned down over his head as Marvin moved on top of him. Whizzer thought he’d put on a show, so he curled his left leg around Marvin’s left leg, causing friction between Marvin’s legs and getting him closer. When Marvin went to kiss his neck, Whizzer couldn’t help it. He started laughing like a maniac.

Marvin pulled away, redder than a tomato. “What?”

Whizzer got up, dusting off his pants, leaving Marvin sprawled awkwardly on the ground. “How wrong of me for thinking you had a thing for me.”

Marvin looked almost hurt, lying on the ground. “I’m sorry?”

Whizzer wiped the smirk off his face, looking at the dejected and hurt and confused man on the ground made him feel really bad. “Admit that you want me, then we can finish where we left off.”

Marvin scowled. “Is that what this is all about?”

Whizzer didn’t like to admit it, but he felt like people saw his newspaper titles and his awards when they looked at him. He always felt like he was a tally on someone’s board, like he was a good story to tell your friends the next day. No one had ever told Whizzer that they loved him. People had told him he was perfect, but he wasn’t. People told him he was the most beautiful thing they’d ever seen, but that was it. No one wanted Whizzer. People wanted to look at him and get in bed with him and to tell their acquaintances about him, but no one wanted just him. He liked playing the part of someone in control, but he knew that he wasn’t this confident person. In all honesty, he wanted someone to still be there for him the next morning. “I was just messing with you, Marv.”

Whizzer turned off the light and pretended to be asleep, leaving Marvin on the ground.

-

 


	4. The lesser passions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whizzer is used to this

Marvin awoke in the center of his dorm room, and what seemed to be the pink light of early afternoon was spilling through the $5 IKEA blinds. He forgot, for a moment, why he was asleep on the ground, shirtless and sweaty.

He remembered the way Whizzer had looked into his eyes. It was like when they first talked, how he felt like he was able to see some sort of rolling teleprompter behind Marvin’s glassy eyes. He shook that feeling out of his head, groaned, and pulled himself up with some small strength he had. 

The room seemed smaller than it did when he first moved in. There was a week before his roommate had joined the equation where the double room felt too big. It was smaller than his bedroom back home, but he seemed really lost in everything. Like the empty bed across the small room was making some grandiose statement about his state of mind.

He looked into Whizzer’s mirror, and for the first time tried to get a better sense of the man he would be living with for his last year at this school. The bulletin around his mirror held cutouts from magazines about him, saying how he had a future, how he was going to be the next big thing. He wondered if this was how famous people motivated themselves.

Taped to the mirror was a baby blue paper, outlining the daily schedule he assumed he abided by. Today, Sunday, started at 5AM with batting practice. He tried to recall the last time he willingly did something before 8. He felt some sliver of admiration for Whizzer, realizing that balancing cheer, baseball, and law school mustn’t be an easy hand to stack. He could barely deal with his business degree.

He stretched, feeling his shoulder blades fall into place and hear his back pop. He checked the time, 1:32, and against his better judgement matched it to Whizzer’s schedule. It said that at 1:30, he started cheer practice on the football field. He traded his dirty pants for khakis and a black T shirt. He didn’t even know why he was doing it, but in a sleep deprived haze he found himself on the campus shuttle to the football field.

He was thinking maybe he’d apologize. He wasn’t sure, but he felt like he had done something wrong. Before the lights went out, Marvin saw the unmistakable gleam of tears in his eyes.

He looked at the field, seeing girls in white and red flip in the center. He climbed onto the bleachers, eyeing them up and down. They were jumping and running and their boyfriends screamed and they smiled with perfectly white teeth. However, he couldn’t find Whizzer in the group of around 15.

The women in front of him were attractive, of that there was no doubt. They were thin and toned, their hair in tight updos and flashy red lips. Not to mention they were wearing clothes that would’ve gotten you arrested in some parts of the country. But for some reason, he didn’t  _ want  _ them. He liked watching their routine, and was impressed by some of the things their bodies were able to manage, but that was it. He heard the men in the bleachers below him yell obscenities detailing the lewd things they wished they would do. But, instead of thinking the same things, the comments made Marvin wrinkle his nose and wished they would stop. He didn’t get it.

He thought, for a moment, that maybe he just didn’t like sex. He thought that maybe he knew people were more than their bodies, but he knew in the back of his mind that it wasn’t true. He huffed a sigh, trying to focus on the impossibly talented women being impossibly  _ attractive _ . He put his head down in his hands, only picking himself back up when he was thoroughly disgusted by his unwashed, unkempt, greasy hair.

When he looked up, the girls were facing away, their attention pulled somewhere else. He didn’t understand why he sweat so much. It must be some shitty genetic thing.

The music blared again, and they moved quickly to do their set. This time, he saw him.

His hair was gleaming gold in the sun, despite its dark brown hue. He was wearing a tight red tank top, and black shorts that were shorter than some of the underwear Marvin wore to bed. His upper thigh muscle was tensing as he ran into his first backflip, like it was pushing against a force. His eyes were wild, like a child who was allowed to have free reign in a store full of sweets. His arms, though thin, were strong enough to hurl the women around him into the air. But his smile was what made Marvin stare. It was a horrible breed between his wicked smirk and that of pure joy. His forehead gleaned from the exertion, but he didn’t stop smiling. When he finished in his final pose, Marvin watched his chest heave as it tried to get any air it could. 

Marvin felt a knot in his gut, like someone had insulted him or told him that they loved him, he couldn’t really tell the difference. Maybe he was going to throw up. Oh my god he couldn’t throw up. He was going to throw up.

Marvin stopped dry heaving when he heard a familiar voice shout his name. “Marvin, sweety, what the fuck?”

His head shot up, realizing that choking on air in the back of bleachers watching a cheer practice he wasn’t supposed to know about wasn’t a good way to recover from making a fool of himself the night before by kissing the dumbass. “I came to say hello,” was all he managed to muster.

Whizzer threw back his head in laughter, returning the knot and the ‘I’m about to throw up’ feeling to his gut. He looked so happy, yet so condescending. So young, but so tired. So horrendous but  still, somehow, beautiful. He was a walking paradox, and Marvin was the idiot trying to figure him out.

“Why’re you here?” Whizzer seemed so casual as he screamed up the forty rows of seats so Marvin could hear him. Why wasn’t he acting weird? Wasn’t last night weird? Was this what college boys did? If so, he felt like he had been missing out by always striving for a single.

Marvin sighed as he felt himself pull his body off the seat to talk to Whizzer. He hated how he felt like his body was controlling him these days, especially in regards to men in tight shorts and pretty smiles. Of course, that was just because attractive women wouldn’t give him the time of day. If they showed interest, he knew he’d swoon over them even more, right?

And now he was standing on the field across from Whizzer, who was somehow perspiring less than him despite having just done whatever hell that cheer routine must’ve been. The embarrassment made his hands clammy.

Whizzer, of course, didn’t miss a beat. “Didya just run a marathon, or did some guy get your face to get that red?” Whizzer smiled condescendingly, and Marvin felt his skin bristle at it. “I mean,  _ honestly _ , have you ever even met a comb?”

Marvin frowned, no longer feeling some weird control or pull towards this man. In fact, he felt more like punching him. “I got locked out.”

Marvin immediately realized what a dumb lie that was when Whizzer cocked his eyebrow and smiled knowingly. “Walk of shame, eh? Trust me, it gets easier after the first time.”

“I’ve had sex before!” Marvin shouted it louder than he had meant to. He heard a girl behind him stifle a laugh. “ _ And  _ it was with a girl.”

He wasn’t surprised when Whizzer actually laughed out loud at this. He was talking like a middle schooler who had been called out on a petty lie. “Congrats, buddy.” Marvin scowled as Whizzer’s hand clasped down on his shoulder like a patronizing father. “Proud of you.”

Marvin wanted to pop, but he plastered a smile onto his face, that of a father who was about to say he was disappointed that, at this age, his son still couldn’t use his words. “I hope you are able to meet that special someone one day.”

Whizzer’s response was a grin that could freeze fire. “Don’t worry, old man. I can take care of myself just fine.” His eyes looked like he wanted to slap Marvin, but his body language looked like he wanted to fuck him. Or maybe that was just Marvin projecting.

Marvin tried to look intimidating by rolling up his sleeves, but it was just a facade to make him seem tough. “I bet.”

They were in each other’s faces, and anyone within a ten mile radius could feel the stormy atmosphere, the one that rolls in just before lightning, cloud the air between them. They were both tense, like they were tomcats defending their territory. They looked like idiots.

“Trust me, I don’t need to overcompensate for anything, Mr. I Put My Wallet In My Front Pocket.”

Marvin frowned, defensively moving his wallet to his back pocket. “At least I have a family to go back to.” Low blow.

Yet, Whizzer laughed, jamming his finger into Marvin’s sternum with a force that almost knocked him back. “At least I can tell myself the truth. How long did you tie her along to your ‘straight charade’. She hates you, Marvin. And you still can’t just admit it.”

And then Marvin pushed him to the ground. He didn’t mean to, but he shouldn’t bring her into this. “How do you know Trina?”

Whizzer grinned wickedly. “I don’t. But every guy like you has the same memo. You dated a girl, never loved her, pulled her along until she despised you, and still never told her why you were never there for her. I’ve seen it before, Marvin. You aren’t special for being sad.”

Marvin wanted to retort, but he wasn’t sure what to say. He felt his mouth open, and felt it close. Whizzer stood back up, staring into his eyes. He felt a fistful of his jacket get seized, and then he was only an inch between Whizzer. His breath smelled like mint and his eyes were cold. “Why are you so ashamed?”

And there was a moment of silence. Marvin wanted to answer his question, but he couldn’t. He wanted to move closer to the man holding him, but he didn’t. He pushed Whizzer off of him, the man felt like he weighed nothing, and walked off the field.

-

“Charlotte I’m an idiot.”

The other woman sat across the room, a knowing smirk playing on her face. “I know. I’m glad you finally started listening to me.”

Marvin threw a couch pillow at her and missed by a mile. “But seriously! It’s like he’s in my fucking head. Why did I even bother getting in a fight with him?”

“To be fair, if you insulted me because of my family past, you would be waking up in the ER.”

Again, he had nothing to say. She was right. “But he started it!”

Cordelia sighed. “Marv, dear, do you even hear yourself? You sound like a grade schooler. I know you are better than this. Why are you letting him get under your skin?”

Marvin couldn’t tell them it was because he, for some reason or another, liked it when Whizzer got in his face. He was mad, sure, but it was different. He liked the way his insults caused Whizzer’s lip to curl. He liked the way Whizzer loomed over him, his finger pressed on his chest like he might just kill him. In fact, he wouldn’t have been surprised or even minded that much if Whizzer killed him. “I don’t know.”

Marvin felt the two women have a conversation with their eyes that he didn’t understand. He was so angry and tired, he didn’t want to feel like this cause some stupid guy didn’t back down. He was being an idiot, but he couldn’t find it in himself to admit it. While the women tried to console him, he heard Whizzer’s voice in his ears. “Why are you so ashamed?”

  
  



	5. Love me, if that's what you wanna do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus, sorry for the short chapter. School's been kicking my ass

When Marvin finally decided to come home, eyes still puffy from crying, throat burning from the bourbon he downed, he was surprised to see Whizzer sitting in his bed, flipping through a book of his nonchalantly. “Hey, Marv!”

What the fuck? He moved slowly and suspiciously to his desk, sitting with his legs spread, backwards in the chair. Whizzer had yet to look up. “Listen,”

Whizzer flashed a smile, eyes peeling from the book to Marvin’s blue-grey eyes. Again, he felt like Whizzer was seeing through him. He shrugged away the uncomfortable feeling, too taken aback by the calm seriousness of Whizzer’s eyes. His defenses dropped. “It’s okay, really.” Whizzer paused, taking his lower lip between his teeth methodically, thinking. “And I’m sorry, Marv, I’m sorry for everything.”

Marvin raised a suspicious eyebrow. “What do you have to be sorry for.”

Whizzer smiled sadly. “I was outta line, I was. No need to bring your past into it. Was caught up in it all. Hope you can forgive me.” Whizzer’s voice drawled with a Brooklyn accent. Marvin almost wanted to hug the man. But he didn’t, he just nodded silently, tears pricking the corners of his traitorous eyes. 

“Because I was always told I was supposed to,” Marvin barely whispered.

“What?”

“That’s,” Marvin sucked in a breath. If Whizzer was going to open up to him, he refused to look like a pussy. “That’s why I’m ashamed.”

Whizzer adjusted his hair, his face betraying the one thing Marvin hated to see, pity. “You don’t have to be, Marv, not here.”

Marvin gave a weak smile.

-

Marvin sat in class, drumming his pencil against his temple. He enjoyed stats, but the TA today was incredibly dull and wouldn’t stop droning on and on. He soon found himself doodling.

Art was a hobby Marvin he had but never admitted to. He started with lips pulled into a smooth smirk, followed by a nose crinkled in mirth. He often found himself drawing Whizzer, he liked his distinctive smile and the way the bridge of his nose matched nicely with his high cheeks. He had visually marked his body when they first met instinctively, so he knew his appearance with an intimate familiarity. His hair flopped before his eyes, closed in frozen laughter. He didn’t like admitting how attractive Whizzer was to him. He hated how the person responsible for 97% of his distress also made him feel so, as Cordelia put it, absolutely whipped. He sighed, shading the dip above his collarbones. He wondered why he had to feel this way.

He was raised with just his dad, his mom passed away shortly after his birth. He met Trina when he was 15, and he decided she’d be his highschool sweetheart. They dated, as best they could. He lost his virginity after prom night after having spiked punch, he had friends, he lived in a nice home. His whole life followed this path of aggressively average, he’d always liked it best that way. But the facade came down all too quickly. He was never there for Trina, he barely pecked her, and he’d always make excuses to not be with her. He didn’t want to break up with her by any means, but he knew he wasn’t happy, and she wasn’t either. That’s why it lasted for 3 more years.

Marvin didn’t really know the breaking point for Trina. One day, she came home to him and announced she was not coming back. Marvin never cried, but he did hurt, he mourned his failure to do such a simple task. He mourned her presence, her comfort, her familiarity, but not  _ her.  _

He snapped out of his drawing by the sudden realization he was the only one left in the room, aside from the nervous TA staring at him from the front of the class. He quickly slid out of his desk, pushing the table back so he could get out. The TA eyes him as he walked out of the room. Before he could escape the room, the girl smiled. “Nice drawing.”  _ Shit. _


End file.
